I might regret it in the morning

The childish urge to cut my hair myself seeps into my head ever so often, like a little demon it prompts me to willy nilly create some bangs (and with regular old scissors too, not special hair cutting ones). I truly have no skill for such things, and this lack of a knack for cutting hair runs in my family. I remember when my little sister used to chop away at her hair as a youngin', looking much like an Amish boy when she got finished. Gosh, she used to embarrass me so. And then my mother always insisted upon cutting our hair herself to save money. My brothers got the bowl cut and I somehow got a Don King hair cut that stood up high except for when I was in the pool where I was often mistaken for a little boy. So it goes. I'm not too worried about it these days.

I stayed home from work today to take care of some personal business. I've also been listening to records and doing some housework, though I really ought to do more of the latter. But goodness, who wants to do housework on a Friday. Happy Friday, folks.

Outfit: 50s nude sheer top ( Etsy), 50s shorts (Etsy), red 50s bra (vintage shop in Lancaster, PA).